


Here In The Silence

by xKalahira



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Canon Related, Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Deviates From Canon, Dragon Age: Origins - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Grey Wardens, Jealous Fenris (Dragon Age), Kirkwall (Dragon Age), Love, Love at First Sight, Mahariel - Freeform, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Canon Compliant, POV Fenris (Dragon Age), Post-Dragon Age: Origins, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Sad, Warden - Freeform, fluff and plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:11:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xKalahira/pseuds/xKalahira
Summary: Kirkwall. 9:34 Dragon. Alistair sacrificed himself to save Ferelden and the woman he loved, Lyna Mahariel. Hawke and his companions are trying to keep the peace between the Arishok and the Viscount, but it hasn't been going well. And Fenris is still hiding from the slavers hunting him, yet finding for the first time in his life, at least in that he can remember, he has friends and...freedom.On a night when all our heroes are simply taking a moment to remember to breathe, Warden Mahariel chances upon a meeting with Fenris and Varric in The Hanged Man when she makes a stop in Kirkwall to visit Anders while on her travels.She has yet to open up to another man in the 3 years since Alistair's death and hasn't wanted to.Until she encounters the beautiful broody elf standing next to her at the bar.In the end, Fenris is left with a decision. Stay with Hawke or follow his heart...and the gorgeous Grey Warden that stole it.





	Here In The Silence

**Author's Note:**

> I've always pictured my Warden with Fenris. If Alistair were to make the ultimate sacrifice. This is my story about how they would find each other.  
> I play a little with the timeline as this takes place the same year that the Qunari launch their attack on Kirkwall (according to The World of Thedas, Vol. 1), but this story takes place before that actually happens.
> 
> ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
> The name "Here In The Silence" is inspired by a song I love that made me think of Fenris last time I played DA2. Modern song but the underlying message could fit him (in my own roleplay of his story).
> 
> "...I'd rather be a lover than a fighter  
> 'Cause all my life, I've been fighting  
> Never felt a feeling of comfort  
> All this time, I've been hiding  
> And I never had someone to call my own  
> I'm so used to sharing  
> Love only left me alone  
> But I'm at one with the silence...
> 
> ...I'm in need of a savior, but I'm not asking for favors  
> My whole life, I've felt like a burden  
> I think too much, and I hate it  
> I'm so used to being in the wrong, I'm tired of caring  
> Loving never gave me a home, so I'll sit here in the silence
> 
> ...I found peace in your violence  
> Can't tell me there's no point in trying  
> I'm at one, and I've been silent for too long"
> 
> -Silence by Marshmello ft. Khalid  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tk36ovCMsU8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance meeting. An unexpected connection. And Fenris finds someone he didn't even know he was looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on doing a second part showing the long night and intense intimacy that follows between Fenris and Mahariel, but I'm having severe writer's block. If anyone actually likes this story and would be interested in the second part, let me know. Otherwise, I'll just leave it as the angst and fluff that it is right now.
> 
> And I've always played DA2 with a mod that makes Fenris bigger and buffer. In my head (and I'm sure I'm not alone in having this type of thought) I think of the lyrium markings as changing Fenris' form and his body, so that he's not the size of a typical elf. He's taller, broader, and much more built. Like what happens to Steve Rogers when he becomes Captain America. So the descriptions I give of him will show this.

“I give up.” Fenris threw his cards down on the scrubbed wooden table that sat between him and Varric, downing his last shot of whiskey with a frustrated sigh. 

“Aww, c'mon, we’ve been having so much fun.” Varric said, unable to hide his grin, taking the discarded cards and combining them back into a stack with an unnecessary flourish. 

“No, you’ve been having fun." Fenris replied, irritated. "I’ve been losing the last gold pieces I own.” 

“Oh, don’t get all broody on me Elf.” The ginger-haired dwarf was leaning back in his chair now, mug of mead in hand, chuckling, as he'd just won his fifth game of Wicked Grace.  

“I told you I don’t brood.” Fenris snapped. “But I’m completely broke and now I owe you even more money. I can’t ask Hawke again, he’s already well overpaid me.” 

“Hawke is softie, just play the former slave, broken life, left destitute and running for your life card, he’ll hand you bags of the stuff.” 

“Hilarious as always, dwarf.” Fenris muttered, trying not to smile.  

Varric gave him a mock bow, "Thank you, sir."

Fenris rolled his eyes.  

“Where is Hawke anyway?” Fenris grabbed his glass, scraping his chair against the floor as he stood up. 

“I don’t know, he ran off with Isabela awhile ago. I prefer not to think of what he’s doing beyond that.” Varric took a long swig from his mug. 

“That's, well, yeah...we'll stop there. But, since it’s on you, I’m gonna get another whiskey. I can’t stand that swill you have.” Fenris motioned to the dwarf's keg that sat nearby. 

“Oh c’mon, let me call one of the girls to get it for you. What’s the point of having a private suite if we don’t use the special services it offers.” 

“You created those special services in your head.” Fenris called over his shoulder as he walked out the door. 

Down the steps, into the main room, Fenris made his way through the crowded tables, most people got out of his way pretty fast. All it took was one glance to take in the ears, his size, and the bright blue markings. But end-of-the-work week nights always brought in more interesting characters than the usual drunks and overworked guards, so tonight, there was less space to maneuver and more people to blend in with. Some shady, some hiding from their lives, some just looking for company. The Hanged Man in Lowtown wasn’t known for classy patrons and delicious drinks, but it suited Fenris. Because it was the exact opposite of the phony perfect pretenses of those Tevinter bastards he used to have to serve. The elegant parties in elaborately decorated mansions where he was forced to perform at his former Master’s will. He’d take thieves and smugglers over those lying, murderous blood mages any day. At least the patrons here were honest about what they did in life.  

Fenris pushed through the throng to the bartender, who nodded when he set his glass down, heading towards the back for the bottle Varric had set aside for him. Glancing around at the crowd, which was always good for entertainment, he noticed a beautiful woman with long dark hair sitting alone at the end of the bar. Her ears were unmistakable, as was the gleaming armor she wore. An elf, dressed in the deep blue and silver of the Grey Wardens. He recognized it from his trip into the Deep Roads with Hawke, when Hawke had given his sister to the Order to save her from the Blight sickness. That Warden, Stroud, as Anders had called him, wore something similar, in heavy plate. This elven woman however was wearing a lighter version, less heavy plate, and more leather, with a dagger sheathed at her side, and a beautifully carved bow tucked into the corner beside her. The shine of her silverite breastplate stood out in the dingy tavern. Everyone seemed to be giving her a wide berth, whether out of respect or fear for Wardens or a distrust of elves, it was hard to say. Opinions of Grey Wardens were varied, although most of the Ferelden refugees in this city revered them as heroes after two had saved their country from the Blight.  Hawke had spoke of them a few times, as had Anders, he thought with annoyance. He always forgot that Anders was a Grey Warden who served under the Hero of Ferelden for a time. He’d once mentioned that his former Warden-Commander was a female elf, a Dalish elf, something many humans outside of Ferelden weren’t willing to believe. But if that was who she was, then what the hell was she doing here? 

She must have felt him staring because she turned her head and gave him a small smile that didn’t quite meet her big violet eyes. There were dark shadows around them, as if she hadn’t slept well in a very long time. Elegant ribbons of a slightly faded purple decorated her face, traveling from her forehead and ending at her lips. A beautiful pair of lips, Fenris thought. Vallalsin. Yes, she was a Dalish Grey Warden. And possibly the famed Hero of Ferelden and Warden-Commander. She was such an oddity in Kirkwall, let alone The Hanged Man, that Fenris couldn’t help his curiosity about this legendary woman, and after getting his drink, he stood for one quick moment, before summoning all his courage to approach her. He didn’t usually speak to strange women. Let alone the possible heroine of the Fifth Blight. 

But when he reached her, and she turned completely around to gaze at him with those sparkling eyes, he couldn’t think of a damn word to say. He was struck by her beauty, the way she held herself. A foreign feeling to him.  

“Aneth ara.” She said with a gentle smile. Her Ferelden accent was unmistakable. 

She must think the lyrium markings are a type of vallaslin, Fenris thought to himself. 

“I'm not Dalish.” It abrupt and all he managed to say in return.  _Well done you idiot. That didn't sound rude at all._

“Oh!” She said with surprise, eyes even bigger than before, “No, I’m sorry, your markings…well I admit, now that I look closer I see they are not like my own. Or, for that matter, any I've ever seen before.” 

“No,” He replied, “They are…hard to explain.” 

She took a drink from her glass, looking at him expectantly. He realized she waiting for him to go on. 

Normally he did not like to speak of his markings to strangers but something about her put him at ease. “They're made of lyrium. Burned into my flesh.” 

“I’m guessing not by choice.” There wasn’t pity or sympathy in her voice, just a sense of understanding, as if she'd experienced similar, unwanted pain. It was unexpected as most that met him were annoyingly over-curious or found him intimidating. She seemed to be neither.  

And he found that refreshing. And…attractive. 

Fenris took a sip of his drink to hide the fact that he was nervous, but he didn’t think he was doing such a good job.  

“Seems we could stand here all night and look at each other, or you could maybe just join me instead?” With another smile, she gestured at the empty stool next to her. “No one else has appeared to want to come near me. I mean, I know a tiny female elf can be quite scary, but you look like you can handle yourself.” Her eyes twinkled and he noticed flecks of gold scattered around the pupils. Natural sparkle.

Fenris laughed, his nervousness melting away. There was something comfortable about this woman. She was welcoming. And warm. “Well, you look like you can too. Elf or not.” He took another drink. A little more liquid courage never hurt. “After all, your armor implies you’re a Grey Warden.” 

“That I am.” She replied, bringing her own cup to her lips. A red wine by the looks of it. “And your ears imply that you are an elf like me. Dalish or no. Looks like we are both very observant.” She grinned at him again, and as she did he noticed the shadows under her eyes faded a little as the skin around them crinkled in amusement.

And at that moment, he knew his face lit up in a smile too. Hers was infectious.

“I’m Fenris.” 

“Lyna.” She inclined her head at him respectfully. “It’s nice to meet you Fenris.” 

“Are-“ He hesitated, there was no point in not asking at this point, “Are you the Hero of Ferelden? You killed the archdemon in Denerim?” 

She looked down into her cup, her smile faltering. “I suppose I am. At least that’s what they insist on calling me. But,” She took a long drink before going on, “I think Warden Alistair is the true hero. He’s the one who…took the final blow in Denerim that finally did kill the archdemon.” Her eyes were bright, her voice softer. Sad. 

“Sounds like you’re both heroes.” Fenris said gently. Yes, Alistair, the rumored bastard son of King Maric. He died during the Battle of Denerim. It was all anyone from Ferelden had talked about after the news reached Kirkwall that the Blight was over. A long lost son that could've claimed the throne. Quite the scandal in Ferelden.

Yeah, that part had slipped his mind.

_Nice job Fenris. Way to be insensitive._

Lyna took a deep breath and drank the rest of her wine. “Well, that’s in the past now. The important thing is the Blight is over and the darkspawn are no longer the threat they were.” 

Unsure of what to say with this turn in the conversation, Fenris swallowed some more whiskey. If he continued to drink this fast, he’d be drunk within the hour. Not the best idea.

“Well,” Lyna said, signaling the bartender for more wine, “Since we’re getting the awkward questions out of the way, what exactly is an elf like you doing in this place? Especially one with lyrium tattoos?” 

“I guess you aren’t the only one with an interesting past.” Fenris said watching the bartender fill up her cup. “They aren’t just tattoos. Well, I wouldn’t even call them that. The lyrium gives me a special sort of power.”  

“For an elf, you are…rather big,” The words stumbled out and she went on hastily, “I mean your arms, your height…well, in your apparent strength.” She looked embarrassed, a pink flush creeping up on her cheeks and took a long sip of wine before continuing. “That, um, didn’t come out right.” 

Fenris smiled, his own awkwardness at her veiled compliment making him feel hot. Or maybe it was just the drink. “No, it’s okay. The…experiments done on me that gave me these markings, they changed my physique, in addition to the infusion of lyrium into my skin.” 

“What type of power do they have?”  

“They allow me to pass through solid objects, including people.” 

He was expecting shock, or an exclamation of some kind, but she only looked at him and asked, “Do they hurt?” 

“Yes.” 

“Wardens are granted a special ability too. The initial pain of it is intense and we live forever with the taint afterwards. And...it's not pleasant.”  

“Seems we both possess unique abilities that come at a high price. Aren't we the lucky ones.” Fenris said with a wry smile. 

Before Lyna could reply, he heard a familiar voice behind him. 

“Do my eyes deceive me? Are you actually speaking to another person besides me and Hawke? Or am I just drunk?”  

It was Varric.  

Fenris didn’t have time to respond though as he watched Varric’s eyes turn to the woman he was speaking to. “And…the Hero of Ferelden at that. Gotta admit I’m impressed Elf.” 

Fenris glared at him.  

Lyna looked curious. “You know who I am?” 

“Warden, I make it my business to know who people like you are. You’re a hero, a legend, a story in your own right.” 

Lyna shook her head. “I’m no hero.” 

“I think there's a whole country that disagrees with you.” Varric replied, smiling. “Allow me to introduce myself. Varric Tethras, humble dwarf and rogue storyteller.” He gave a bow. Fenris snorted. 

“Humble isn’t the term I’d use.” 

Lyna laughed.  

“Why don’t you come back to my private suite, Warden?” Varric said, motioning towards the back steps. “Join Broody and I for a game of Wicked Grace and tell us your story. From what I’ve heard, it’s rather unbelievable.” 

"Broody?"

"Don't ask." Fenris muttered, shaking his head as Varric smirked. 

Looking both confused and amused, Lyna glanced from Varric and then, to Fenris' surprise, back at him, like she was asking what he thought. Fenris shrugged at her unspoken question.

She nodded at Varric. "Okay, well, can't say that doesn't sound intriguing. It's nice to not drink alone for once as I'm on my own most of the time. And...I was definitely enjoying Fenris' company. "

He knew he flushed a little as the dwarf turned and gave him a knowing wink.

_Argh. Shut up dwarf._

Sliding off her stool with a soft clink and rustle of leather and metal, Lyna grabbed her bow and bag, "Let's go boys." She grinned at Fenris again. He couldn't help but feel pleased at this extra attention.

And so, following her lead, Fenris stood up as Varric turned around to head back upstairs. “Seriously, dwarf, would you stop calling it a private suite? You make it sound like some grand, expensive room in a palace, which is far from the truth.” 

“C’mon Elf," Varric said loudly over the rowdy crowd as he pushed through. It'd grown even larger in the past half-hour, and yet still parted for their little group, pausing to stare at Lyna as she walked past. "You know it’s not every day we get to spend time with a beautiful heroine.” 

“Really, I’m not a hero. Just call me Lyna, please.” She protested as the three of them reached the stairs. 

“It’s pointless to argue with him about things like this.” Fenris said. He followed behind Lyna, as she walked near Varric, unable to keep from observing every detail about her. She was so much smaller than Fenris initially thought. With a natural grace in her movement, long, shiny hair dancing in the dim candlelight flickering around them. It was hard to believe she helped kill an archdemon. But size was never an indication of power and to think so could be the one major difference in a fight. One that could save your life or mean your death. 

_She smells like...flowers and vanilla. Sweet, like sunshine._

Fenris blinked as his foot landed on the top step. _Like sunshine? That doesn't even make sense. Yup, the whiskey has gotten to me already._

As they entered Varric's private room, the dwarf motioned to the girl tending the fire to bring them more drinks and before he could protest, Fenris had been dragged into another game of Wicked Grace. 

It was very pleasant, sitting there, talking and laughing, listening to Lyna’s tales of what she saw as she traveled all over Ferelden. He tried to drink more slowly, but enough to help him relax as he watched, in awe, as she told her own stories of what she'd been through, what she survived. Especially when he heard how she became a Grey Warden. Of course, Tevinter was partly to blame, he thought bitterly. The continuous flow of wine causing her beautiful plum-colored eyes to shine even brighter with every tinkling sound of laughter that escaped from her perfect mouth. Repeatedly, Fenris found himself staring at her a little longer than would seem appropriate and had to keep shaking himself so he'd look away for a bit. But watching her talk animatedly to Varric, those big eyes sparkling with memories and laughter, he just kept finding himself completely mesmerized by her beauty and courage.  Never had he met such a strong woman, let alone a gorgeous Dalish elf who, against all odds, became a hero in her own country, to humans who had harbored prejudices against elves for centuries. She was an elf who wasn’t a slave, sure of herself, knew her weaknesses, but refused to give up. Sacrificed so much to save others. He’d heard very little about the Grey Wardens until recent years when he started working with Hawke, but he was gaining more and more respect for them just listening to Lyna. He noticed though that she avoided speaking much about the battle of Denerim, against the archdemon, and when Varric brought it up, Fenris saw the flicker of pain that briefly flashed across her freckled face. And Varric appeared to see it too, quickly moving onto a different topic.

“So, what brought you to Kirkwall, Warden? Did you come to seek out your clan?” The dwarf asked as he cut the deck again. Fenris had refused to play a third round, choosing instead to watch Varric finally lose to someone. Which had proven quite amusing.  

“Isn’t it a small world.” She said in surprise. “You know my clan is in the Free Marches?” 

“Yes.” And so Varric began to tell the story of how Hawke had carried an amulet to her former clan’s Keeper. Although, Fenris noted, there were quite a few embellishments. And an overemphasis on the dragon part.

That, however, was not what interested Lyna. When Varric finally finished, she looked shocked and angry. “Merrill left our clan because she's using blood magic to fix the mirror that killed Tamlen, and almost killed me?” She shook her head. “Why would she want to touch any part of that evil thing. Why would she think-” Eyes narrowed, Lyna stopped talking, her fist clenched around the cup of wine she held and she drank the rest with one long and irritated motion. 

Fenris was lost about this part of the conversation, he didn’t know much about Merrill and didn't know she was connected to the Hero of Ferelden. She was a mage who used blood magic and he had little desire to be around her unless it was for Hawke. Although, come to think of it, maybe Hawke _had_ mentioned something about the Hero of Ferelden being from her clan? It was a bit bizarre how they were all more connected than many of them realized. Or maybe it was some weird fate. Not that he believed in fate.

“Hawke is trying to talk her out of it,” Varric was saying, “But she's very stubborn.” 

The anger had faded as quickly as it came, but the deep sadness in Lyna's voice was evident when she finally spoke again. “It is her path to choose, but I would think, I would hope, that she'd show more respect for what our clan lost that day, for what I lost that day, because of that...tainted mirror.” 

Varric looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…the way Daisy spoke, I thought-” 

“No, please don't apologize Varric. It is what it is. I mourned the loss of my clan and Tamlen a long time ago and I didn’t travel here to relive the past. I’ve been on a personal mission for the Wardens and since I was in the Free Marches I thought I’d stop in Kirkwall to rest and resupply since I knew Anders was living in the city now. I wanted to visit him, but, he wasn't at his clinic when I stopped by and one of the people there mentioned he hung around The Hanged Man sometimes. I actually came here looking for him.” 

Fenris choked on his whiskey at the mention of the mage’s name and that Lyna was looking for him. While he coughed and sputtered, Varric didn’t seem surprised at all. That dwarf always knew more than he should. 

“Yes, Anders doesn’t speak much about his time as a Warden, but he did mention the fun he had with you.” Varric laughed. "Blackmarsh sounded especially interesting." 

“I forgot you knew Anders.” Fenris said, swallowing against the burn in his throat, unmistakable anger and irritation in his voice that he hadn't intended to show. 

Lyna looked taken aback at his tone. “ _You_ know Anders?” 

“Apparently we all know Anders.” Varric laughed.  

“I wish I didn’t.” Fenris muttered. 

Lyna look puzzled.  

“You don't want to know. Trust me.” Varric said.  

“I’m confused.” 

And again, Varric was off telling more stories. Fenris listened to the explanation of how they’d met Anders with Hawke, including starting to tell the story of how Hawke and him had met Fenris. 

“Wait, do we really have to talk about this?” Fenris asked. For some reason, he didn’t want Lyna to hear it. 

Varric ignored him. “And then he reached into the guy’s chest and ripped out his heart. I’ve never seen anything like it. It was…bloody. And bright. Very bright.” 

“You can- rip someone’s heart out?” Lyna asked. Finally, something about him had shocked her, thought she tried to conceal it. 

“Yes. It’s…the markings.” 

She stared at him. “Wow, that’s quite the power then. I thought I’d seen everything at this point. But, it seems I haven’t.” 

“Trust me,” Varric said. “You don’t want to see it. Although the way he lights up all blue and scary is something to see.” 

“He lights up blue?” 

“Yes, the markings emit this bright blue glow and he gets this look on his face-“ 

“You know,” Fenris said loudly. “I’m sitting right here.” 

“Well, then show her.” 

“No.” 

“Why not? There’s no one else around.” 

“I’m not something to show off for your entertainment dwarf.” 

“You know that’s not what I meant Elf.” 

“It’s okay.” Lyna said as she poured more wine into her cup. “You said they hurt, I mean, it’s not necessary-“  

Fenris had a sudden desire to show that he could handle the pain. 

He stood up, closed his eyes, thinking of Danarius, and immediately felt the power emanate from his body.  

When he opened his eyes it was to see Lyna’s mouth open, her own eyes widened in amazement. 

Varric smirked. “I have to say Warden, I’ve never seen Fenris so agreeable. He’s practically in a good mood. Did you put something in his drink?” 

Fenris turned to glare at him when he heard another, new voice behind him. One he didn't care to. 

“Him? In a good mood? Looks more like he’s showing off.” 

“Anders!” Lyna exclaimed, jumping out of her chair. 

The light fading from his markings, Fenris turned his scowl on the blonde-haired mage who’d just appeared in the doorway of Varric's room. 

“Hey Commander.” There was something in the grin Anders gave her and in the way he suddenly wrapped his arms around her tiny frame in a bearlike hug, swinging her around as she laughed. 

Fenris felt his stomach knot up in resentment at this display of affection. 

“I’m not your Commander anymore, not since you left me. Left all of us.” She frowned up at him as he put her back down. 

Anders' gaze softened, his hand reaching out to brush against her cheek. “You know why I had to.” 

Her frown was replaced with something that looked like a mix of sorrow and regret, but she didn’t respond. Anders' hand was still on her cheek, the loving look on his face as he gazed down at Lyna was utterly sickening.

_What the hell is this?_

Trying to ignore the twinge of jealousy stabbing at his chest, he cleared his throat and Anders dropped his hand immediately. 

Varric, however, looked extremely curious. “Is there a story here I missed?” He asked slyly. His implications were glaringly obvious to the room. Lyna coughed, blushing, and went back to her seat. 

“No.” Anders said a little too fast and immediately changing the subject. “I’m sorry I wasn’t in earlier when you stopped by the clinic.” He spoke this to Lyna, pulling up an empty chair and sitting down between her and Fenris, making a point to knock into him as he did so. Gritting his teeth, Fenris moved away, farther from Lyna and closer to Varric, sitting back down a little too hard, the noise of it making Varric give him an inquisitive stare. 

Fenris glowered as Anders chatted up Lyna. It was clear that they were very close during Anders' time at Vigils Keep. Their actions were familiar and comfortable with one another. Like more than friendship. He sighed, picking up his glass of whiskey and staring into the golden liquid before finally finishing it off, only to look up and see Varric, playing casually with the deck of Wicked Grace cards, and smirking in his direction. 

“What.” Fenris growled, slamming the glass back onto the table in his annoyance at the sudden change in his night. A definite turn for the worse. And he _really_ needed to slow down on the whiskey. He'd had enough.

“What’s going on over there?” Lyna asked, finally looking away from Anders.  

Why doesn't he just pull her onto his lap, Fenris thought, a red-hot jealousy licking his insides. He's practically on top of her already.  

“Just a bit of broodiness.” Varric grinned over at Fenris again, leaning back and shuffling the cards, like he was waiting for the next part of a show. 

_Fasta vass._

Fenris looked away, at anything besides Anders cozied up next Lyna and Varric's infuriating smile. 

“So, nothing new.” Anders said in a mocking tone that about pushed him over the edge. 

“Nobody asked you mage.” He snapped, trying to curb his temper, but it was quickly beginning to unravel. 

 _Don't let him goad you. Don't. He isn't worth it. And not in front of_ _Lyna._  

“Am I missing something here?” she asked, looking from Anders to Fenris to Varric and back to Anders again. 

“Let’s just say these two don’t get along.” Varric said, finally putting down the cards and moving both hands behind his head, rolling his eyes. "Shit, can you two just relax. We were having fun." 

Fenris didn't speak, just narrowed his eyes at Anders and avoided looking at Lyna. He could, however, feel her staring at him. 

There was a long, tense moment of silence. Lyna looking between the two of them as the fire crackled in the background, a low hum of voices and laughter trickling in from downstairs. Varric gave a half-amused, half-exasperated sounding sigh and refilled his mug with mead.  

"And here we go." He murmured, taking a drink. 

Anders' chair creaked as he pulled away from Lyna and turned to face Fenris.

“It’s not my fault the elf treats me like some kind of common criminal. As if a _former slave of a blood mage_ has any right to feel so self-righteous.” His tone dripped with an icy rage as he returned Fenris’ sneer. His fists were on the table and they were clenched. Lyna had put some distance between them, scooting her chair back from the table. Anders hadn't noticed. His attention was fixed solely on Fenris. 

“You’re the only one at this table who's an abomination.” His own voice was dangerously low, his chair scraping the ground as he moved, ready to get up, gloved hands clenched under the table, desiring nothing more than to slam them through the demonic arrogance before him. 

“Shout it louder.” Anders hissed. “I don’t think the templars over in the Gallows heard you.” 

“Don’t tempt me.” Fenris retorted through clenched teeth.

“I’m not the only one who glows blue around here.” Anders jeered, eyes flashing as he jumped up. 

Fenris was on his feet instantly, and in his fury, his markings started to light up. 

And then there it was. Anders eyes ablaze in bright white blue light. Streaks of lightning across his body. 

“Give me a reason.” Vengeance snarled, his hands full of crackling electricity. Fenris' entire body was lit up now, his own hands full of a bright blue magic.

This concentration of magical light was intensely bright and had Lyna covering her face as she scrambled out of her seat, fearful, and backing away into the wall behind her. Varric, however, was pissed off and squinting up at them both. 

“ _Would you two knock it the fuck off?!_ You’re going to get us all arrested if you keep it up. And Aveline will skin us all alive. Both of you, put it back in your pants.  _Now_. Show the Warden some respect. She’s our damn guest.” 

Not taking his eyes off Anders, Fenris unclenched his fists, the glow fading from his body as he slowly sat back down. Anders’ eyes lost their glow too, all traces of Vengeance disappearing as he dropped his arms to his side, the lightning gone from his hands and skin. Though Fenris knew he was **still fucking there**. Just below the surface.

Refusing to drop his guard completely, he watched carefully as the mage turned to Lyna, and to Fenris’ surprise, Anders looked nothing but ashamed. 

“I’m sorry Lyna.” It was almost a whisper, the way he said the words so softly.

“It’s too late for that. And you know it.” She replied quietly, fixing him with a look that Fenris couldn't quite read. There was an uncomfortable silence. “Excuse me for a moment.” And she ran out of the room. 

Fenris saw Anders making a movement to follow her, but Varric grabbed his arm. “Let her go Blondie. I think you've done enough.” 

For the first time ever Fenris saw sadness on the mage's face as Anders stared at the empty doorway Lyna had just disappeared through. Shame? Sadness? Guilt? Fenris didn’t know he had the ability to feel those things. Anders carried more rage around than even he did, especially being possessed the way he was with that terrible spirit of Vengeance. Or he and Justice had become Vengeance. Whatever. It's not like it mattered at this point. And Fenris had never seen him show anything but multiple variations of that.

 _He still has romantic feelings for her_ , he thought, the jealousy from before returning with full force. 

Varric sighed. “Maybe you should go check on her Elf. Poor thing has been through enough bullshit without you two fighting over her.” 

“What?” Anders snapped around to look at Varric, sounding furious. 

“I wasn’t-“ Fenris responded, sharply, speaking at the same time. 

“Oh, please.” Varric said, exasperated. “Don’t even try it. Either of you. We all know what's going on here. You,” he looked at Fenris, “You’ve been staring at her all night. Rather intensely, I might add. You couldn't be more obvious. And you,” he turned his head to glare at Anders. “That hug told us everything we needed to know.” 

For a moment Anders scowled at Varric, only to suddenly, and very abruptly, collapse back in his chair in utter defeat. All anger gone again.

Fenris could only watch in shock at another unexpected show of emotion. It was as if, for that moment, Vengeance wasn't there with Anders. He was just...a man. Just Anders.

The mage stared at the wall. “There were- feelings on my part, but she’s never really gotten over losing Alistair. And when I merged with Justice,” he looked down at the ground, “well, I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for that.” 

“Well she shouldn’t.” Fenris growled. 

“FENRIS." The use of his name was what got his attention. Varric never used his name. But, the dwarf looked incredibly pissed off right now as he spoke to him. And it took a lot to make him like that. " **Go. Now.** Make sure she’s okay. And _shut the hell up_.” 

Fenris got up. He was still fuming about everything, but he'd never seen the mage looked so beaten down or the dwarf so angry. And he was most definitely worried about Lyna. And he _did not_ want Anders going after her. Thankfully, Varric agreed with him.

Anders didn’t say anything, but Fenris could feel eyes on his back as he walked out of the room. He scanned the bar once he reached the bottom of the steps but he didn’t see that distinctive Grey Warden armor anywhere, and so, made his way outside, worried and hoping she hadn't left for good. 

Then again, she'd left all her things behind so she had to be here, somewhere.

Pulling open the heavy wooden door, he was hit with cool air, the musky smells of Lowtown in his nose. He took a minute to let his eyes adjust to the change in light.

And then there she was, leaning against the outer wall, a little ways from the front door, staring out into the dark streets, watching the drunks and the whores that worked this part of the city as they wandered by. Relief washed over him.

“Beautiful view isn’t it?” He said, walking up to lean against the wall next to her. 

She turned those stunning eyes of hers towards him with a small smile. “Best in the city.” 

They were both quiet for a few minutes. 

“I’m sorry,” He began, but she cut across him.  

“You don’t need to explain Fenris.” Hearing his name on her lips gave him a weird feeling in his stomach. “It’s not you I’m angry at.” 

“Well, I’m still sorry. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. It’s something I struggle with.”  

“I’m sure you have your reasons.” She said softly, wrapping her arms around herself, like a protective hug. “We all have our baggage. And I don't judge. Anders just….” She looked down at the ground. “Well, you obviously dislike him so I doubt you want to hear me talk about him." 

"If it helps you, I'm willing to give it a try." He replied gently. A sudden impulse hit him. "Hey, would you, maybe, like to take a walk with me? Go someplace a little less...well, whatever this is." He gestured around them at the dirt and dust that was Lowtown. "To talk, of course." He added hastily, "Or we can just grab a bottle of wine and relax."

"Where did you have in mind?" She asked curiously. 

"There's this hidden place I discovered down by the docks, right on the water. I go there sometimes when I want to be outside, but alone, to think, away from the noise of the city. It should be peaceful tonight as the dockworkers would be gone by now. What do you say?" 

Fenris wasn't sure where the courage to ask her this had come from. He'd never asked any woman to go anywhere alone with him before. At least, not in this lifetime, that he could remember. He held his breath, as she took a minute before answering him. And just as he started to think maybe he'd made a mistake, Lyna smiled. 

"I think I'd like that."  She held out her hand. "I know we just met, but...I trust you Fenris."

It took him a few seconds to recover from the surprise of such an intimate gesture, his heart beating faster as her eyes locked with his. And he realized that what he'd been feeling towards her, she was feeling for him.

And sliding off his glove, he nervously took her small, warm hand, covering it with his own larger one, her soft touch causing no pain in his markings.

"I feel very lucky to have met you tonight." She reached up to touch his face with her other hand. He flinched. It was a reflex born of living with the pain of the markings. But, it was like she understood this, and so, she was incredibly gentle, her fingers light as she grazed them across his cheek and into his hair, a tender expression on her face.

"I don't know," he said, hoarsely, the feel of her on his skin, brushing through pieces of his hair, stole his breath away. "I think I might be the lucky one."

And as they disappeared into the night, his hand tight around hers, Fenris wondered how it could be that he'd have been blessed to meet this beautiful woman. Such a random chance in the chaos that had been his life for so long. 

Maybe there was such a thing as fate. Or at least...something like it. And maybe, just maybe, he'd found it with her.

 


End file.
